


Romance is a Funny Thing

by The_Female_Gaymer



Series: Gaymer's Requests [2]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: C-section scar, Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Forced Orgasm, Genderbending, Genderbent Trikey, Hickeys, Jealousy, Makeup Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Licking, Nudity, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Post-Game(s), Smut, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7480038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Female_Gaymer/pseuds/The_Female_Gaymer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it's not perfect, it's not worth it. That's the philosophy behind most relationships.<br/>That's not how it worked with Michelle and Trisha.</p><p>Basically Genderbent Trikey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance is a Funny Thing

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure you've seen the tags. Don't worry folks, it's all consensual. Though please do inform me if I've forgotten to tag anything. Also, this is my first time writing F/F smut, so please be gentle in your critique.
> 
> Requested by Robot-dadd over on Tumblr. Thanks for the request! ^_^

Romance is a funny thing. When they’re born, the first thing any young, respectable woman is taught is that they're going to find a handsome young man who treats her like she's his whole world, and they're going to get married and grow old together. The media shows it with their princess/prince relationships, how so in love they are and how everything is perfect. There's always a happily ever after with them. Little girls are taught that he's going to worship her, or he's not worth her time or attention. That if he doesn't look at her like it's the first time every day, then something's wrong with the relationship. If it's not perfect, it's not worth it.

That's not how it worked with Michelle and Trisha.

Setting eyes on Trisha Philips for the first time was like looking directly into a flash bang colored neon vomit for Michelle. And it was just the icing on the trash cake when she shot that bitch in the eye with the flare, showing her poor lack of judgement. Michelle decided right then and there that she wanted as little to do with Trisha as she possibly could. Surprise surprise-- the clearly mentally unhinged Trisha wasn't having any of that. Why Michelle let herself be so easily convinced to let Trisha tag along with her would forever elude her. What would end up confusing her even more, however, would be how close she and Trisha would become. She would be confused by the nights they spent sharing the same bed for warmth, the days they spent arguing over what town they should dive into next (and how Trisha clearly enjoyed it), the booze and the spoils they would split and the punches they would throw and, ultimately, the first time Trisha took Michelle by the wrist and dragged her in for a lengthy, sloppy kiss. And she liked it.

That's not what she'd been taught when she was little. Huh.

It ended up being that Trisha taught her a lot of things the media and her parents didn't. About her own sexuality. About how the two of them could have sex together. About her confused and conflicted feelings. But Trisha was patient and loving through most of the process. Despite the lingering, nagging fear that there was something wrong about all of this, Michelle cast it aside, because damn it all, she  _ loved _ Trisha. She would rarely say it to Trisha's face, because that gave her more leverage over Michelle, and she couldn't afford that.

Then in came Adam. Adam and Lessa and Bradlynn. And getting knocked up by Adam had not been her plan at all, but it happened because she was young, dumb, and bi, and Trisha somewhat begrudgingly approved it because, yes, she agreed, Adam  _ was  _ "hella fine." Though, if she'd known what was going to happen, perhaps she would have been against it from the start. As it ended up, Michelle married Adam, though it was vehemently against what she wanted, but her kid was going to need a father, and the last person she was going to let "father" her baby was Trisha. The turbulence it caused in her secret, now side-relationship with Trisha tore her heart in half. And she left half of her heart behind when she left Ludendorff and changed her name. She left half of her heart with Trisha fucking Philips in the snow.

"If it's not perfect," she told herself, "it's not worth it." She told herself that every night, and eventually started to believe it. She believed it for ten years. "It's not worth it if it's not perfect."

Then Trisha came back. Ten years later, Trisha came back, and the rest was history. The FIB, meeting Francine, "fixing" her shitty marriage, confessing about Bradlynn, the Union Depository, all of it. All said and done. All history.

And that brought Michelle here. Here, twenty years after first laying eyes on that vomit flash bang that was Trisha, in front of the crazed woman's home.

Michelle took a deep breath from her lips. In, and out, very slowly, as she beheld the shitty trailer before her. Her hands fidgeted, white and nervous, on the Tailgater steering wheel. What was she  _ doing _ here? This was a stupid idea. She should just back out, go home. They didn't need to talk about this. Trisha hadn't brought it up, after all; why should she be the one to do it? What was there to say? 'Sorry I broke your heart and tore it apart and left you for dead while completely disregarding our history, I’m leaving you now?' That would end delightfully. But for God's sake, she had to say  _ something _ about it. She couldn't leave this thread unraveled. This was something that had to be done, needed to be finished. There needed to be closure to their relationship. She had to break it off. She had a loving husband and two delightful kids, and if she was going to fix her marriage, this had to be done. They wouldn't understand. It had to be done.

Sighing, Michelle unbuckled herself from her car and got out, shining black heels skidding in the dirt for just a brief moment. She tightened her ponytail, straightened her jacket, then, with a roll of the shoulders, marched up to the trailer door. She knocked quickly, before realizing she still hasn't rehearsed what she wanted to say. There was no time to half-ass something. Just a second later, the screen door swung open, and Michelle found herself staring.

Trisha rubbed what appeared to be sleep from her eyes (it was six at night), and smirked at Michelle with bright amber eyes. She propped herself against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "Well well well, look at what the snake dragged in. Michelle De fucking Santa Claus."

"Fuck you," Michelle frowned, trying to tear her eyes away from Trisha's torso. All she was clad in was a red check shirt, buttoned up only to the middle of her sternum, and it was very clear she didn't have a bra on-- though, with how small and perky her breasts were, bras were of very little concern to Trisha. The little pink panties just visible beneath the bottom of her shirt was a lot to take in as well, short little pubic hairs sticking out from the thin material. Michelle cleared her throat, and finally made eye contact with Trisha, loving the bedhead look and the messy top bun. "Look, T, can we talk? It's important."

"Ugh," Trisha moaned, tossing her head back, and Michelle felt offended at the sight of a bite mark on her neck that  _ she _ hadn't caused. She wondered, very suddenly, who had given it to her and where she had gotten it, among other things. "Talking? Now? Don't you ever just want to hang out for the sake of hangin' out anymore? No, you've always gotta have some stupid reason or other to come and see me. Why not just come see me for  _ me _ for once?"

Michelle opened her mouth to speak, but Trisha wasn't finished.

"I mean, shit, Mish, what the fuck happened to us? We did what we always dreamed of doing and it's like... it's like it ain't amounted for shit. It ain't changed who we are. We're still... after all this time, you still haven't..." Trisha pursed her lips together, and Michelle jumped in before Trisha could open her mouth again.

"That's why I'm here, Trish. I'm here to... to talk about us."

Trisha quirked an eyebrow, taken off guard by the statement. "You are?"

"Yeah." Michelle glanced down at her feet. Trisha was quiet for a long moment, as if waiting for Michelle to elaborate, but she did not.

"Us," she asked again.

"That's what I said," Michelle patiently confirmed. She looked up at Trisha, and that intent look in her eyes masked what she was thinking. It made her uncomfortable; Trisha was usually so readable. After another moment, Trisha stood to the side and gestured inside her trailer. Michelle let herself in, and Trisha closed the door behind them.

The trailer was just as she remembered it when she'd been stuck out here on the run from the Mexican mafia. Maybe a little cleaner, maybe a little less smelly, but not by much. She didn't dwell on it too much-- Michelle leaned against the cleanest part of the kitchen counter, trying not to stare at Trisha too intently. Trisha, on the other hand, went straight to the fridge, not out of her element whatsoever.

"Beer?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"Nah," Michelle declined. "I wanna stay sober for this particular conversation, thanks."

"Pussy."

"Fuck off."

A moment passed where nothing happened, just Trisha getting her booze and taking a long, thoughtful sip, gulping down the beverage rather loudly. Michelle stood watching, watching the way her throat and that damn bite mark moved and flexed. Then, Trisha gasped for breath, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, before setting the bottle down on the counter behind her. Eventually, Michelle's curiosity got the better of her.

"So where'd you get that," Michelle blurted out, not quite of her own accord.

Trisha knit her brow together. "Where'd I get what, dumb fuck?"

Michelle gestured at her own neck, mirroring where it was on Trisha's, and the other woman's face melded into recollection.

"Ah. Right. Just some hookup at the Yellow Jack Inn. Boy, that girl knew what I needed. Not rough enough though, if you ask me." She snickered at the memory, and Michelle felt her own knuckles tighten. "Why? You jealous?"

"I ain't jealous," Michelle snapped. "Just curious."

"Curious?"

Michelle grit her teeth together. The way Trisha had said it was teasingly accusatory. "What, I ain't allowed to be curious?"

Trisha's smile was crooked on one side. "You know," she purred, as she approached Michelle slowly, "the saying goes, 'Curiosity killed the cat...'"

Michelle leaned away when Trisha got close to her face.

"... 'but satisfaction...'"

Michelle repressed a shudder as fingers walked up her sternum and came to rest on her collar bone.

"... 'brought it back'."

"I don't know what you're implying," Michelle said quietly, staring into Trisha's eyes. 

"You know exactly what I'm implying, motherfucker."

"I don't," Michelle insisted.

Trisha narrowed her eyes. "Then let me spell it out for you, hmm? If you're so possessive of me, then satisfy me, motherfucker. Remind me why you're my main fuck. It's been too fucking long, alright? Fix that."

"That's not what I came here for," Michelle snarled, but she could feel her resolve slipping, feeling Trisha's body against hers in such little clothing. She placed her hands on Trisha's shoulders, not quite pushing her away just yet, but ready to do so. “I just came here to  _ talk _ .”

"Fine then. Talk," Trisha growled. She separated herself from Michelle, much to her surprise, and she gestured to the door. "Either spit out what you came here to say, fuck me, or get out. That or, you know, I can just go get Chef to do it since you've clearly lost your sex drive to Menopause or whatever stupid shit--"

Trisha had been smiling as she was heading towards her bedroom, but it was brief as Michelle suddenly darted in front of her, placing her arms on either side of Trisha's body and trapping her against the wall next to the bedroom door. Her eyes widened briefly in surprise as Michelle towered over her, despite being shorter.

"That's my fucking job," she snarled, shaking slightly as she tried to wrestle with what her body craved and what her brain was telling her. 'No,' it was shouting, 'you idiot, this isn't what you came here to do. Break it off. You came here to break it off, dumbass.'

Trisha blinked, looking down between them into Michelle’s cleavage, before smiling. "Is it? Oh, forgive me, I'd forgotten. Ten years does shit to your memory, you know?"

'Stop,' Michelle's mind pleaded as she took a hold of Trisha's arms and rumbled a promise into her ear. But Michelle decided not to listen to her better judgement. Trisha was out of line. It was time to remind her who she belonged to.

"Maybe to your memory, but I still know how to make you fucking beg, Philips."

There was more primal growling between them, before they slotted their lips together like not a single day had passed since the last time they'd been together like this. Any protests Michelle had left in her mind died away after tasting and feeling Trisha's lips against hers again after so long-- chapped, firm, experienced lips that had starved for this for years and years. Fingers crusted in dirt and God knows what else dug hard into Michelle's shoulders, and she couldn't help but wince slightly at the pain, even through her jacket. It wasn't long before they were panting against each other, and Trisha was scrambling to peel Michelle's suit jacket from her shoulders. The older woman aided Trish in the process, shrugging out of the material, before sliding her own hands down to her hips and yanking her in close, until their hips were flush together.

Michelle had to lean back for a moment to catch her breath, and the disheveled, lust-ridden look on Trisha's face was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. They'd barely just begun and already, Trisha looked ready to come apart beneath Michelle's fingers. She couldn't stop the smirk that crawled on to her face as she chuckled, and Trisha pouted.

"Oh, Trish," she chided lightly, "if only you could see the look on your face."

Trisha was going to speak, probably some biting remark or retort, but her breath faltered in her throat at the feeling of two fingers sliding over her covered cunt, rubbing intently. She was quick to regain some of her composure, and sneered down at the slightly shorter Michelle.

"Are you even trying?" she taunted, lips curling up, but she couldn't mask the slight tremble behind them.

Michelle dropped her tone with a light chuckle. "Of course not. I'm just getting warmed up."

The hickey Trisha's last fuck had left behind was beginning to fade, being a light purple and yellow. Michelle licked her lips as she inspected it for a brief moment. Faster than Trisha could realize what was going on, Michelle groped her ass with one hand, the other still running in between her thighs, and sunk her teeth into the mark on her neck and sucked  _ hard _ . Trisha was a slut for pain at heart, and Michelle knew it. That was only confirmed when Trisha moaned, tilting her head away and shuddering when Michelle licked over the fresh bruise she'd left over that last asshole's. It was Michelle's markings now. Trisha was marked as hers, if only for a short time. 

Michelle continued to leave hickeys all over Trisha's neck and collar bones, drinking up the younger woman's breathy moans and how her hips began to subtly rock into her hand. Already, Michelle was pleased to find, Trisha was soaking through the thin fabric of her panties, the damp feeling familiar and arousing at the same time. She removed her hand, much to Trisha's lament, but took a hold of Trisha's shirt and ripped it open, sending small buttons flying everywhere.

Trisha only had time to look momentarily pissed; before she could speak up, Michelle's lips were on hers again, her hands kneading the supple flesh on her chest. Somehow, Michelle ended up guiding the two of them into Trisha's bedroom, shoving the Canadian to lay on the bed with her legs spread invitingly, shirt splayed open like wings and breasts bouncing slightly. Trisha sat up on her elbows and smiled at Michelle deviously. 

"What's the plan, cowgirl?" she asked of Michelle. "You gonna make this poor girl cry?"

"I'm real fuckin' tempted," Michelle admitted as she began to unbutton her dress shirt, but halfway down grew impatient and just slipped it off over her head. It caught on her breasts, causing them to bounce, and Trisha eyed them hungrily. "Oughta teach ya a lesson, goin' around and giving every pretty girl you see a chance to lay ya. Oughta really fuckin' give it to ya.”

Trisha crooned tauntingly, letting a hand grasp at one tiny breast and another wander farther south, two fingers rubbing over her clit, still through her underwear. "Then why don't ya?"

Michelle had finally slipped out of her pants at this point, and she joined Trisha on the bed, mouth quirked up at one corner. The bed tipped more on her side, due to her larger weight. "Because you'd like that too much."

"Then what are you gonna do?" Trisha asked.

Michelle took a hold of Trisha's hands, pinning them above her head with one of her own, while her right went between her legs. The twitch her lover's legs gave as she rolled her fingers around the little bundle of nerves between her thighs sent a nostalgic thrill through Michelle's veins. She was so warm and hot, even through her underwear-- it was almost too much to bear. Trisha rolled into Michelle’s side, the dip of the bed causing them to slide closer together as Michelle lay on her side. She inhaled through her nose deeply before she spoke.

"I'm gonna make you cum so many fucking times. I'm gonna make you cum so many times, the only word left in your vocabulary by the time I'm finished with you is gonna be  _ my _ name. Because you're  _ my _ girl. Not some random fucking hookup from Yellow Jack."

"You better make fucking good on your word," Trisha challenged, but not before her face crept a shade darker than before. "You know how much I can handle."

Michelle silenced Trisha with a grind of her hand against her swollen, sensitive skin, and the younger woman's head tilted back on a choked grunt, hips canting into Michelle's hand. Her hands strained against the grip Michelle had on them, but she didn't have any serious desire to break free. Trisha's legs fell further apart to accommodate the growing heat between them, and her body twitched when a finger pressed down on her damp panties on her entrance.

Michelle's head spun, drunk on how submissive and easy Trisha was being for her. It wasn't often she would lay back and let Michelle have her way with her; there was usually always some sort of power struggle before she let Michelle take over, or vice versa. Now though, she was pliant and loose, chest heaving as she attempted to maintain her composure.

Michelle was relentless in her assault on Trisha's nerves, and it wasn't long before she was panting and writhing beneath her hands. She could barely keep still, soft moans escaping her throat. "So are you gonna... are you gonna take off my underwear or-- or what?"

Michelle thought about it for a moment, before deciding against it. "Shush. You'll do what I want you to do. If I want you to keep these on, you'll keep them on."

Trisha huffed, already feeling her arousal dripping from inside her down between her legs. She wanted, more than anything, for Michelle to just stuff her fingers inside her dripping sex and abuse her insides until she was sore and boneless, but she knew Michelle wouldn't do it even if she asked nicely. She would just have to wait and see what Michelle had in store for her.

It was only a few more minutes before Trisha felt her orgasm creeping up on her, like a predator hiding in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She whimpered when she addressed Michelle. "Come on, take off my underwear you p-prick. I'm gonna c-cum soon if you keep this up."

"I know." Michelle smiled hungrily down at Trisha, causing the younger woman to gulp in trepidation. That was another thing Michelle had always enjoyed about Trisha and sex; the woman had a short fuse, if you knew what you were doing and knew what she wanted herself. She could deny it all she wanted, but Michelle knew this was turning her on immensely.

"I'm serious," Trisha emphasized, then moaned as Michelle's gyrating fingers picked up speed. "Fuck, come on, don't-- don't make me cream my fucking panties, you shithead. Don't--"

Trisha tossed her head back and cried out when teeth latched on to her right nipple, pinching the bud as a tongue swirled around the tip. It was the tipping point, and Trisha spiraled downwards into her orgasm. Her hands threaded into Michelle's hair, tugging as her body went taut and she let out a long, drawn out moan. Her cum soaked through her panties, an obscene dark wet spot that would never quite wash out, and filled the room with her scent. She convulsed bodily for a good twenty or so seconds, before she fell limp, sprawled out on the bed.

Michelle lifted her head up to admire her handiwork, chuckling darkly. "There's one," she murmured. 

Trisha barely reacted, simply eyeing Michelle out of the corner of her eye as she shook from small aftershocks. That was a sight Michelle had long since missed.

Michelle stayed true to her word and dedicated to her task, bringing Trisha to orgasm four more times-- twice with her tongue, once with her fingers, and one last time with one of the sleek dildos the woman had stashed away in her nightstand drawer. All Trisha could bring herself to do was whine and thrash, the intensity of each one leaving her more breathless than the last. After her fifth orgasm, Michelle was finally as bare as she was, having had both their underwear tossed somewhere mindlessly in the midst of it all, and Michelle straddled her chin, looking down with hazy green, lust-blown eyes. Trisha stared back up with exhausted, yet eager to please amber puppy eyes, saying nothing about the C-section scars on Michelle’s abdomen.

“You know what I want,” Michelle growled, rocking her hips slightly forwards. She grasped one of her own breasts, kneading at her own flesh.

Trisha took the hint quick enough, extending her tongue and licking a long stripe up Michelle’s slit. She was never one for much teasing, however, and got straight down to business, swirling around Michelle’s swollen, neglected clit, panting hotly against her skin. Michelle gave a satisfied sigh, untangling her hair from her ponytail (which had long since fallen loose since she got here) and holding Trisha’s head in place while her other hand tangled in her now loose hair. She rocked gently into Trisha’s mouth, smirking down at the woman so devoted to her task.

“That’s it,” she urged, “fucking take it all. You missed this, didn’t ya? Missed the taste of my cunt on your lips, huh?”

Trisha furrowed her brow, hands gripping Michelle’s thighs as her tongue delved inside her, tasting every drop she had to give. Her enthusiasm was all the more arousing, and gave Michelle flashbacks to their Yankton days. Trisha’s technique hadn’t changed at all. The older woman narrowed her eyes, her own release already so near.

“Fuckin’ A, Trish,” she panted, focused only on the pleasure surging higher and higher in her gut. “Christ, I’m not gonna last if you keep that shit up.”

Encouraged by her words, Trisha resumed her ministrations tenfold, giving Michelle everything she had. Soon enough, Michelle was shaking and cursing through her climax, thick thighs nearly crushing her head. Trisha continued to drink everything she could get out of her, until Michelle had to push Trisha’s head away from her, oversensitive and drained. She smiled down at Trisha, scooching backwards so that she could come face-to-face with her, and sharing a long, deep kiss. She could taste herself on Trisha’s lips, even more so when Trish let her tongue delve between Michelle’s lips. The younger woman’s hands groped at her sides, sinking into flesh, and stayed there for a good long while while they kissed.

Michelle tumbled off of Trisha to one side, an arm draped over her lover’s stomach and pulling her in close to herself. The warmth seemed to soothe her overworking heart back to its intended pace. There wasn’t a force in the world, Michelle thought to herself, that could move her or disturb her from this peace at this moment. It was the perfect temperature inside the trailer, the sun no longer beating down on the tin roof and turning the place into an oven. There were no noisy neighbors to disturb them. It was perfect. Minutes of blissful silence passed, before Trisha spoke up, head resting on Michelle’s breasts.

“So… what did you come here to tell me in the first place?”

And just like that, it came rushing back to her. The entire reason she had come here. Michelle tensed up, knowing that she had made a mistake, and Trisha felt it. She lifted her head, looking down into Michelle’s eyes. She hovered there, expectant and waiting.

“I…” Michelle pursed her lips; should she tell her the truth? At this point, she didn’t know if she even had a choice. The only way Trisha would trust what she was saying is if she actually told the truth. Somehow, Trisha always knew when Michelle was lying out of her ass. She always knew when something was amiss. After Ludendorff, she always knew. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes. What did she have to lose?

“I came here to break up with you. Officially, I mean.”

Trisha was silent for a long time. Michelle didn’t dare to open her eyes and look up at her. She didn’t want to see her face, what kind of emotion was plastered on it. She didn’t want to see what was running through her head. After a few minutes, Trisha’s voice was little more than a whisper.

“Are you still gonna?”

Michelle dared to open her eyes. To her surprise, Trisha’s expression was unreadable. Her eyes, her lips, her brow, everything about her was as stoic as stone. But she couldn’t deny the tension that was there, the way she was poised, ready to react to anything. She knew that look like the back of her hand-- she’d seen it countless times over the course of twenty years. Did she really want to go through with this? Did she really want to finally end a relationship that had been over for years? Was she ready to say goodbye to what they’d shared?

Michelle frowned. “Probably not.”

“Why?”

Her frown deepened. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

Trisha remained passive. “You have every reason to leave me, and I know it. You’re married. You’ve got kids. I piss you off more often than I make you smile. Our dynamic is all to shit, Mish; we hate each other.”

“I don’t hate you.” Michelle shook her head as she said it. “I don’t hate you at all.”

Trisha blinked.

“Trish, Jesus, man, I  _ love  _ you,” Michelle continued, and she squeezed Trisha’s arm reassuringly. She craned her head up to lock lips with the Canadian for a brief moment before speaking again. “I thought  _ you  _ hated me. I thought you didn’t want to be with me anymore after all that shit I pulled on you, with Bradlynn and the FIB and Ludendorff and--”

“Oh no, believe me,” Trisha cut in, “I’m still pissed as all hell about that. And no amount of groveling at my feet for forgiveness will ever make me forgive you. I put everything on the fucking line with you, and you took it with you when you left me. But…”

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “But?”

“But at the same time,” Trisha continued, “I’m not mad at  _ you _ . You made a mistake, and a really fucking shitty one, and I’m mad about  _ that _ , but you regretted it. I know you did. It took me years to figure it out, but I did. When you told me to run, I didn’t want to, but I did. Now I know if I hadn’t…”

Trisha let the silence fill in the end to her statement.

“You never wanted me to die. You never wanted anyone to die.”

Michelle nodded, looking away from Trisha.

“If I could go back in time,” she muttered, but Trisha placed a finger on her lips, quieting her with a soft ‘shush’. Michelle looked up into Trisha’s eyes, and they were smoldering, but it was controlled. It was as if Trisha was looking at her like it was the first time.

“We’re okay now,” she whispered. Michelle just shook her head and laughed, and Trisha’s face screwed up in confusion.

“Okay? No. Nothing about this is okay. Nothing about this is okay, or perfect.”

Trisha screwed up her face. “Perfect? If it’s perfect, it ain’t worth it.”

That caused Michelle to stop short, her laughter dying in her throat. A phrase, so familiar to her own philosophy, yet the absence of a single word changed the entire meaning. She wasn’t quite sure she’d heard her correctly. “What was that?”

“It’s not worth it if everything works out just the way you want it to,” Trisha said again. “That’d be so  _ boring _ . There’d be nothing to work on, nothing to improve. The blood and the sweat and the tears are what define a relationship, Mish. Jesus, didn’t your parents teach you anything? You gotta work for it. You gotta work to get it to be good. That’s how it’s always been. Girls, boys, nonbinary, genderfluid-- regardless of the relationship, that’s how it’s always been.”

Michelle stared up at Trisha, the gears in her head spinning at a thousand miles an hour. That's not what she'd been taught when she was little. Huh. But somehow, it seemed to make sense.

She was pulled from her musings by Trisha placing a hand on the side of her face, and a soft, scarred smile. 

“We are  _ back _ , baby,” Trisha said, smiling with glee. “Michelle and Trisha, together again. And we’re gonna fucking make it work, husband or not. Let Adam do his own fucking thing. You’ve got me, alright? You’ve always got me. You’ve always been, and you’re always gonna be, my main fuck.”

Michelle couldn’t stop her own grin from spreading across her face as she pulled Trisha down for another passionate embrace, her sweat-slick body pressed tight against hers.

Romance is a funny thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: the-female-gaymer.tumblr.com


End file.
